


the beautiful changes

by blackkat



Series: Horoscope Drabbles [21]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Childhood Friends, Complicated Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 14:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17285912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “It’s a ritual,” Tajima says, seated on the end of Butsuma's cot with one leg pulled up under him. “The fire will only kill you if you let it.”





	the beautiful changes

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Normal Horoscopes on Tumblr:
> 
> Cancer: Fire is an ancient force of purity and renewal. Fear not those who wield it, but those who struggle against the ash, those who seek to grow when thrown on the pyre.

“It’s a ritual,” Tajima says, seated on the end of Butsuma's cot with one leg pulled up under him. “The fire will only kill you if you let it.”

“Helpful,” Butsuma snaps, and it’s futile to struggle, to pull at his bonds with Tajima sitting right there, but he does it anyway. Maybe some small part of him is hoping a childhood friendship will make Tajima merciful. Maybe he really is the fool his mother always called him.

The ropes around his wrists are too tight, regardless. There's no shifting them.

Tajima snorts, and the slant of his smile is a thin, sharp thing. “You’ve never had faith in anything, have you, Senju?” he taunts, and the ball of his foot hits Butsuma's thigh hard enough to bruise.

“My sword,” Butsuma retorts, because the Uchiha might be a spiritual clan, but the Senju haven’t been in an age. “My clan, my skills.”

 _You, once_ , he doesn’t say, because it’s one thing to be a fool in the privacy of his mind, and another entirely to prove himself a fool to Tajima.

Tajima makes a derisive sound, but he rises from the cot, takes two steps over and crouches down in front of Butsuma. His face is harsh, hawkish, but Butsuma can still remember times when he used to smile, and even mean it. When he reaches out, Butsuma doesn’t let himself turn away, and Tajima's fingers skim the bandana tied around his brow.

“You proposed an alliance,” he says, and black eyes shift to red.

Butsuma should look away, but he doesn’t.

“Here to mock me for it?” he asks harshly.

Tajima's touch becomes a tight grip in his hair, tugging his head back. “No,” he snaps, and his temper is always a thinly-tethered thing, but Butsuma is a little surprised it’s lasted this long before giving way. “You idiot, this is the Uchiha giving you a chance to prove you _mean it_.”

“By throwing me on a pyre,” Butsuma says, dust-dry and full of edges. “How kind.”

Tajima snorts, rising to his feet. “Fire purifies,” he says, and just for a moment his eyes are distant, focused somewhere else entirely. “It renews. If your intentions are strong enough, if your will is truly set, you can emerge from the pyre. You can grow in the flames.”

“You're _insane_ ,” Butsuma spits. “All of you are.”

And then, without warning, Tajima is on his knees in front of him again, surging forward, one hand planted on the wall behind Butsuma's head. “You idiot Senju,” he snarls, “ _listen_. If you don’t, this will kill you!”

Butsuma stares into Sharingan eyes, startled into silence. Tajima doesn’t want to see him die. It’s easy enough to read that on his face. There's fear there, but—

Maybe there's hope, as well.

“All right,” he says quietly, and Tajima's expression twists. He grabs Butsuma by the collar, drags him in, and it’s a harsh kiss, full of teeth and buried anger and something like desperation, nothing like what they once shared. Even so, it curls in Butsuma's veins, twists in his chest, and his breath shakes as it emerges. He flattens his bound hands to Tajima's chest, not to push him away but so he can feel the warmth of him, and Tajima kisses him again, raw and wretched. Then he’s gone, pulling away, rising and turning.

“The fire will be lit at noon,” he says, without glancing back. “They’ll come for you when the sun rises again. Take this time to reflect on how you want the fire to reforge you.”

“Will you be there?” Butsuma asks quietly, and somehow—somehow this feels like a little less of a death sentence than it did when Tajima first told him what would happen.

There's a laugh, strangled and strained. “Don’t be an idiot, Butsuma,” Tajima says, and leaves.

The reverberation of the door falling shut behind him makes Butsuma close his eyes, tip his head back against the wall. His mouth feels bruised, hot, and ever bit of skin that Tajima's fingers brushed is burning.

Butsuma breathes, steady, quiet, and thinks about being remade. Thinks of growth, and what he would change in himself if given the chance, and the approaching sunrise.

Thinks of the hope and fear in Tajima's eyes, and two boys meeting in a distant meadow ten years ago, so full of dreams.

When they throw him on that pyre, he’ll rise. He isn't about to let it kill him. Tajima's touch is fire, and Butsuma will survive, because he wants to feel that fire again.


End file.
